Hail Hydra
by Kirbilius Clausius
Summary: With the public destruction of helicarriers and the imminent disbanding of S.H.I.E.L.D. every researcher that depended upon the agency is affected. Some scientists by a lack of funding. Some engineers by undercut ambitions. Others by more dangerous repercussions.
1. Chapter 1

1

Everything stopped. Just like it had when September 11th brought the War on Terror that had been raging since the 70s to the American public's consciousness. Just like New York had slapped the world so senseless that all the things that were promised (like human understanding and unfathomable technology in the light of a confirmed alien intelligence, or the consalodations of the world religions once proof of a god was confirmed) never happened. But that was craziness from without. And the famed 'heroes of New York' and the S.H.I.E.L.D. crews in the aftermath had shown that there were people to protect...

And this shattered it. The Cheesecake factory's staff stood around the small tv. Each stared at the tiny screen showing huge helicarriers firing rail gun rounds and even planes into the sky. The very protectors that stood between the now literally existing killer robots and alien annihilation were tearing themselves apart in front of the country's eyes.

Penny needed Leonard. He'd make sense of this.

2

"This doesn't make any sense.", Leonard pointed out. "Even if it was a catastrophic computer malfunction, there's no reason for three separate incidents on three separate ships. Back me up here, Howard."

There were entirely too many people stuffed into Sheldon's office, straining to see the feed displayed on his laptop. Not just for his tastes or his accusations of fire codes. He could just hear the floor groaning under the weight.

Howard shook his head. "S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarriers are more secure than nuclear submarines or space shuttles. Even if they were getting a bad signal from a central source, they're crewed. The signal could be cut off from the inside. There's no-ohmigod."

The engineer finished short when the three air ships apparently armed everything and pointed more fire power than was used in all of the Arab Spring. Alex was so shocked she even let Barry comfort her. Barry was so shocked he was even sincere. Thousands of tons of metal sunk from the sky. What the news revealed was the Triskellion collapsed under the weight of one of them. And the myriad of Quinjets, F-35 next-gen raptors, attack helicopters seemed to want to keep on fighting whatever nigh-invisible enemy rather than rescue anyone.

"President Ellis has declared a state of emergency for the entire District of Columbia.", the news anchor was reporting. "Unlike a state, this declaration automatically declares DefCon/"

The assembled scientists snapped out of their near trance like states as Dr. Gablehauser cut closed the laptop. "All of you probably have people you'd rather be with. There's no science getting done today-go home people."

Nearly expectedly, Sheldon objected. "Now wait a minute. Your duties are to the university, not the feelings of these people. Instead of relaxing the reigns in order to coddle their emotions, you should be dedicating your efforts to finding alternative sources of funding. The craft we saw being destroyed as well as the facility that served as collateral damage did not appear cheap by any means. Any resources that may have been previously ear marked by S.H.I.E.L.D. for every field, from far field study to ancient linguistics is in jeapordy of being reallocated. Many of these people aren't going to have jobs to come back and employ."

The room went silent. Fortunately, Dr. Gablehauser turned to Sheldon before the mob did. "Ms. Jensen. Please see that Dr. Cooper is off campus immediately."

3

Howard turned to his wife. "What are you smiling about?", he asked worriedly.

"I'm not smiling." Bernadette tried his best to make this the truth. "It's just that repulsors may leave a residue that's harmful to biological cells, a few repulsor engine air ships were sunk in a populated area today and a certain microbiologist may have cooked up a protein that scrubs the circulatory system with no side effect nastier than what Pepto-Bismal could give you. And that would turn into a boku-bonus if that was the case.

"It's not like I'm happy all those people are hurt."

The rest of the people in Leonard's living apartment stared at her in amazement.

Testily, Bernadette preempted. "Well, I'm not."

Penny turned back to Leonard. "So what does this mean for national security? It's not like the Iron Man weapon can keep us all safe alone."

"Then you're not Sheldon.", Leonard replied. "He was adamant that it wasn't an *ahem* real emergency that he kept his date night with Amy on the sole basis that the Iron Patriot wasn't deployed."

"Sweetie, if the only difference you can tell between me and Sheldon is that, then I think we're at very different places in the relationship."

4

Amy continued with her analysis and behavior prediction of the populace in light of the latest disaster, as well as it directly affecting the security apparatus designed to protect the populace from such disasters. "So in conclusion, I cannot postulate that the population will be cowed into giving up civil liberties to any governing agency-old or crisis fashioned-when the instigating event is stemied from a governing agency."

"Darn.", Sheldon replied between bites of apple cobbler. "Now people will be as sentimentally illogical as they were the last time they viewed the world as threatened, just with out a guiding savior. This blows."

Amy held out her arms hopefully. "Would you like a comforting hug?"

Sheldon considered. "No. It's late and I'll have to be leaving soon. We might as well start on the end date physical intimacies."

Sheldon wiped his mouth and stood with Amy. She reached up on her tip toes to press her lips to his. After she let go he made for the door.

"Don't you think you're forgetting something?", Amy reminded.

Sheldon stopped and turned. "Oh, of course. This whole day has me flustered."

He returned to her and whispered into her ear. "Hail Hydra."


	2. Chapter 2

1

Micheal Peterson checked around to make sure no one was looking directly at him. Sure, Deathlock's hoody was pulled way over what was left of his face. But Michael didn't need people to notice how much the car's springs lifted the car when the Extremis positive, cyborg body of the Deathlock project got out.

The man frowned at the quaint Texas home. **Knock. The passcode is Mathew 25:35.** But dispite Michael's discomfort, trepidation and general sadness he bade Deathlock's arm to knock on the door. He found himself feeling that way about a lot of things he directed the cybernetic body to do since its first implant-the wide spectrum eye that came with mysterious instructions and enough explosive to send a gray matter crushing shockwave bouncing around his now metal skull.

A brunette middle age woman answered the door. "Oh, I'm sorry hun.", she began. "The Jefferson's house are on the other side of the block. I'd appreciate you takin' the long way 'round instead of just traipsin' through like the rest of your kind."

His frown deepened but he said aloud: "Mathew 25:35. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink/"

"Well, welcome on in stranger.", the woman invited him in.

The woman looked over Deathlock. Michael felt especially self-conscious of the scar in his face that exposed the metal skull. The woman shook her head. "Mm, mm, mm. We're gonna have to get you out of those raggedy sweats before we set you at my dinner table. That's for sure. Fortunately, you're lanky like my youngest.

"Well, git on upstairs and find something. And wash up too. Those doohickeys in your face won't rust up in the shower, now will they?"

2

"Lead on, Agent Barton.", the woman directed. "This is your mission."

Clint looked down on the shorter woman. "We both know that the only reason I'm being let out with this loose a chain is that the F.B.I. wants to confirm the data dump that just hit the internet. You just don't have the man power to sift through it quick enough to know where to look. If the bureau actually trusted me, it would have assigned a heavier hitter than a clagent."

Angela scoffed. "Firstly, soon-to-be-ex-Agent Barton, it's not like you're going to have many missions left with your current badge. Secondly, the desk I was behind served as background checker for nearly everyone on this campus that needed clearance. So you do your job without going off the deep end and we'll add my case file to the evidence mounted for you rather than against you when you're supoena. Because issuing those is a task we're putting the manpower behind."

Barton cast those assassin's eyes over the fed. "Alright."

"And let me play bad cop.", Angela continued. "They're already afraid of me."

"Why does every woman I work with say that?"

1

The cyborg came back downstairs and smelled a divine scent. "Is that actual southern fried chicken?", he asked aloud.

Mary Cooper smiled. "Home made. Come sit down and I'll fix you a plate."

"Thank you...um, ma'am." The man pulled out one of the chairs at the dining table and nearly sat down.

"Don't worry.", the woman told him. "We only use reinforced chairs in this house ever since Shelly put his brother through one when he was five."

The man nodded and settled the Deathlok project onto the small chair. To his surprise, it actually didn't collapse.

Mary then pulled a sequence of pins from the weapon burned into his arm. A series of HEAT rounds fell onto the table. "I didn't let my George take his shotgun to the dinner table, I'm certainly not letting anti-personnel missiles here."

"It's good to have company in times like these.", Mary told her guest. "Just when we were about to reveal ourselves to the world and accept our place as its rulers, more Avengers creep out of the wood work and sink 70 years of work. But don't worry. 'When one head is cut off, two grow in its place.'"

The man's face contorted over Deathlok's soulless skull.

The woman laughed gently. "Don't think just because you have one of those eyes that you aren't part of the family, honey. It's not like anyone finds out about as secret an organization as Hydra and doesn't get the hard sell. Lord, the night after I overheard the doctor talking about my treatments being connected to the Winter Soldier project I raised so much hell with my George I thought Mephisto himself was gonna make manifest in this very house. One second, I'm trying to right by my babies gettin' all those fancy pre-natal medicines and then it turns out I'm breeding the next generation of Hydra shock troopers."

A dallop of mashed potatoes dropped from the man's mouth as he gaped at what the sweet natured, middle aged woman told him.

"Oh, they're no where as powerful as you.", she assured. "The Winter Soldier project was born out of eugenic experiments Hydra performed when it was still bein' run by Schmidt. There's mitochondrial acceleration for healing and athletic ability, and there's the senses but the noggin' gets hit hard. I got one baby that I had to convince to turn down S.H.I.E.L.D. and A.I.M. at 15 years before he was interested in girls and the other dumber than the sluts not named Debbie in those 'Debbie Does' movies. At least they didn't end up in and out of a deep freezer like that other assassin fellow they've been usin'. Nowadays, there's fancy machines to stick in you and Extremis and even the occasional survivor of gamma radiation exposure."

"But I wouldn't trade 'em for any thing in the world. Even though I couldn't bring Missy into the family business because hostessing down at the Fuddrucker's gave her headaches that only the man of the week could cut down. And Lord knows, Shelly tried me dearly. Every time I told that boy to keep his physical development secret he build another death-this and ray-that. And his father was just muscle. He didn't know anything more about what the child was into than I did. My George just kept bringin' home brick-a-brack from whatever genius' lab they broke into that month and said, "Let the boy figure. If he's gonna threaten the planet it might just get us a bigger house.""

"Ma'am, mind if ask you a question?", Micheal asked.

"Go right ahead, honey."

"How are they keeping you from just getting out?", he asked. "It sounds like your kids can take care of themselves, so they can't be threatening you. My son's not even in middle school. And you don't have a bomb sitting in your head-I think."

Mary nodded. "It's because Hydra's right. Humanity can't be trusted with freedom. You can just look at the rest of you colored fellows if you don't want to see the big picture."

The man was so aghast, Deathlok's jaw dropped.

"Africa didn't even have metal working until after Ghengis Khan conquered half of everything. And all that did was allow it to be ripped apart by Europe. Now everything south of the Sahara desert has more minerals than any American gold rush, more medicine waitin' to be cooked out of jungle plants and...how's it put...bi-o-di-ver-si-ty like the Ark but are they doin' anything with it? Besides spreading civil wars, a hankerin' for a good meal and AIDS, I mean. And when freedom came to American Africans? For every Booker T. Washington there's a hundred hoodlums smokin' crack. O.J. was fine when he was on a tight least playing football and makin' them Naked Gun movies-afterwards he just fell apart."

"And that's just ya'll. You see the people rulin' nations nowadays. Leave people free to vote and you won't get good men, righteous men at the top. You'll get people good at trickin' people into voting for them. Now we have the most powerful nations in the world in debt to each other, people starvin', no shots for their babies. The ruskies don't even have people makin' babies anymore. And they're right next door to a billion Chinese that can't barely feed themselves. And the real kicker to it all:They could just solve each other's problems and they're just too free to do the right thing. A-rabs blowin' up buildings for Allah, no one knowin' how to treat women from Morroco to Vietnam and back down to Argentina...

"Look at you. What do you want to do the most in the world?", Mary asked. "No, honestly."

"See my son.", Micheal replied instantly.

"And what's he gonna get out of that. His daddy's a robot? What did he get before you got mixed up with us? You were unemployable. Weak. Now that you're doing exactly what Hydra tells you, how's he doing? S.H.I.E.L.D. put him up in one of the best boarding schools in the country. His daddy can do things how many other people can do?

"No matter how unruly humanity is, humanity can't be trusted with freedom. Until Jesus comes back and slaps some sense into people, I'm backing a Solomon for Caesar instead of being idle. You'll be happier the moment you accept that mission as well."

2

"Are you drunk, Dr. Koothrapali?", Agent Page asked him.

The astrophysicist shook visibly. His night went from 'yay, everyone's off campus so I get all the distributed processing power' to 'I hope this isn't her Navy Seal husband'. "Nu-No, Ms. Page. Agent Page. I mean, we aren't familiar despite my trying to get really drunk the first time I met you. Not that I didn't off you any. Not that I wanted to get you drunk. I was selectively mute!

"Oh just send me back India."

Clint walked up to the man and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dr. No one's going to send anyone to India."

"Omigod, you're going to kill meeeee.", Raj cried. "I'm too young. I have a dog."

Clint frowned back at Angela. He gave the smaller man a good shake. "No one's killing anyone. No one's going to India. I just want to ask you some questions."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you.", Raj celebrated. "I can answer all of them because I'm really smart, use an impeccable documentation process and am a busybody gossip like no one's business."

"Okay.", Agent Barton acknowledged. "We know you've worked with S.H.I.E.L.D. before, projecting meteor showers for the Slingshot. What I need to know is if there are any other projects you've been charged with."

"I had nothing to do with any of those helicarriers.", Raj assured preemptively. "Ask Wolowitz. He's an astronaut. And he only has a Master's degree. If they went hay wire he's your best bet. He may be my best friend but I know nothing. I can't even fix my toaster!"

The S.H.I.E.L.D. and F.B.I. agents winced. This was going to take forever.

1

**Ask Mary for a picture of Dr. Sheldon Lee Cooper** Deathlok's implant wrote across its field of vision.

"Mary, can I get a picture of Sheldon? I mean Dr. Cooper.", Michael asked.

"Oh, of course.", Mary assured. She rummaged around finding a more recent picture. "Do you need a picture of Missy, too? George Jr. wasn't a subject of the program."

Michael looked down at his plate. He used the remaining gravy to write ANYONE ELSE.

**Ask Mary for a picture of Dr. Amy Farah Fowler** his implant replied.

"Is Missy's real name Amy?" That didn't make any sense. Wasn't she supposed to have mental complications from the Winter Soldier treatments.

Mary turned on him. "No. Missy is her real name. Not even Melissa. Oh, you must mean his girl friend, Dr. Fowler. She's a Jew. But if Hydra's going to command, we're going to have to expand."

The woman returned with several pictures of her son and a computer print out of a college website.

Michael turned to her. "Shelly kept saying it was a security risk to have a picture of her here, but I just couldn't resist knowin' what the girl that snagged Shelly looked like.

"Are they targeted?", the woman asked.

**Leave for Pasadena** another order came through.

"I have to leave, ma'am.", Michael informed.

"Well good luck then, young man.", Mary told him.

She extended two arms up to the height of his shoulders. He started to lean in to accept the motherly hug he expected.

Then she clenched her fists, completing the salute. "Hail Hydra."


	3. Chapter 3

1

"Dr. Cooper still isn't here, Agent Barton.", Alex told the man. Again. Just like the last time.

He fixed her with those assassin's eyes. When he was within sight of Agent Page, he tried to cover the look of murderous intent with a practiced, entirely fake smile. Alex didn't consciously realize what she felt was the feeling of death creeping up her spine. But she hid herself a bit behind the door to Dr. Cooper's office anyway.

"You assured me that he had free time just before 3 p.m., Ms. Jensen.", the man said in a calm voice.

"Oh no.", the girl replied. "I said he had free time scheduled. He has the same free time scheduled every day. No one knows what he does with it."

Agent Page walked up to the two. "Kripke's clean. Probably not due to any of his own merits. But his funding's coming from known civilian sources."

Clint nodded without taking his eyes off Alex. "Ms. Jensen. I am going to have a conversation with the...elusive Dr. Cooper tomorrow. It is up to him and you whether that will take place in this office in the morning, or with your company in a holding cell in L.A.'s F.B.I. office in the afternoon."

"You can't threaten me.", Alex defended.

Somehow Agent Barton had already conjured Angela's side arm from under her blazer. A small twist shoved the F.B.I. agent to the wall across the hall and the door the research assistant was drawing confidence from open. A step forward and a flick of the wrist and the door was slammed shut as well as locked from the inside.

"I'm a member of an intelligence agency that's being taken into the custody of the United States Air Force. Three helicarriers were sunk by the greatest soldier in history. A terrorist group from a time before we started designating NGOs such things infiltrated and betrayed a service I've given my life to.

"So please. Inform me how I can't threaten you."

A small 'eep' escaped Alex' lips. And only then was she in the exact place to make the connections. Sheldon's action figures lined up amidst an array of books. They weren't all of them by the longest of shots. But they were the only ones that really mattered in this day and age. Next to the emerald rage monster, an archer pointed right at the man she was intimidated by. The peculiar color eyes, a crystal blue she hadn't seen outside of Dr. Coopers gave it away.

"It's you.", Alex accused. "It's really/"

"I expect you'll do your very best to have Dr. Cooper here, and keep him here, tomorrow morning Ms. Jensen."

The research assistant nodded readily. "Yes. I mean, yessir."

Agent Barton walked back to the door. "Thank you."

As Alex caught her breath, her ears caught the conversation on the other side of the door. "You can't do that to an American citizen." "Would you like your firearm back?"

2

"Dr. Wolowitz?", Agent Barton announced himself.

"It's Mr.", Agent Page corrected.

The engineer nearly glared at her. "I would have told him."

"Sure.", Agent Page replied. "It's just that a lot of people around here get antsy about the subject."

"Anyway...", the large man cut in. "I have some questions about/"

"My research, yes.", Howard interrupted. "As you know, I've been given the utmost security clearance in order to install, at great risk to myself, a very delicate piece of engineering on the International Space Station. As an astronaut, and therefore one of America's heroes, I'm glad to serve my country with the utmost loyalty. In fact, I..."

After five minutes of stone face expressions from the Barton and Page, he stopped.

"Um, was there some of the technobable that you couldn't follow?", Howard asked.

"I was going to ask after your misappropriations.", Agent Barton answered.

The engineer dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand. "Minor miscommunications/"

"Having a civilian pilot the Mars rover and getting it stuck in a ditch?"

"We found the first evidence for liquid water.", he reminded.

"Stealing a space worthy camera?"

Howard folded his hands over a nearly quivering knee. "Have you interviewed Dr. Cooper yet? I mean, I was only cleaning it. It was returned promptly. er...I did return it, didn't I?"

"Absconding with Life Model Decoy technology in order to produce, and I'm only quoting here, 'a six breasted robot'?"

Howard leaned toward Agent Page. "Well, she certainly wasn't going to model anyone I know, am I right? Unless you're hiding...er, nevermind."

"Who directed you to take custody of so many high-tech devices outside of your purview Mr. Wolowitz?"

"I'm sorry. Who?", Howard asked.

Agent Barton drew himself up to full height. "Yes. Who?"

"Look, I know I don't look like much and certainly they were stupid ideas, but they were my ideas all the same.", Howard began. "And they're in the past. I'm a changed man. I'm married for God's sake. I don't have to construct pick up lines out of potentially android/potentially space worthy technology any more.

"You believe me, right?"

Agent Barton agreed. "I do."

The other two spoke in unison. "You do?"

"Of course.", he reaffirmed. "The material was only used by a desperate man to attract women. We all know how women go wild for unencumbered electronics."

"Exactly.", Howard breathed in relief.

"Let's leave the man his time, Agent Page."

Outside in the hall, Agent Page challenged him. "Barton, do you really believe he just happened to bring a cybernetic limb to a hospital in order to 'pick up chicks'."

"If Hydra doesn't appear in the next few minutes to permanently silence us for knowing his extra curricular projects?", the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent replied. "Probably. I'm much more interested in the woman he did manage to pick up. Who's he married to?"

"A Bernadette Wolowitz-Rostenkowski. She's the daughter of an ex-S.H.I.E.L.D agent turned local PD and works with weaponizable infectious agents...ah, crap."

Barton shrugged his shoulders. "Let's go. We'll get to Dr. Cooper tomorrow."

3

The gang was eating comfortably in apartment 4A. Well, most of the gang. One engineer munched in silence under a withering glare, waiting for the tension to break.

And then it did.

"A six breasted Life Model Decoy, Howie!", Bernadette exclaimed.

Howard seemed to shrink beneath her gaze.

"And do I have any warning what-so-ever? Noooo. I have to hear about in a lab full of technicians from a hero of New York!"

Raj blurted out. "You mean the rumor was true?"

Sheldon glared at Raj. "What rumor?"

Leonard answered. "You didn't hear? Alex was telling everyone that the archer was the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent checking up on people's research."

"Oh drat.", the tallest man lamented. "And here I was, hoping it was the rage monster's secret identity."

"As annoying as you are, I think all of California is thankful you won't meet the rage monster.", Penny joked. "Besides, why do you think any of the heroes have secret identities? The only ones that wore masks were Tony Stark and Sam Rogers."

"Steve.", Leonard corrected.

"What?", Penny asked.

"Captain America's first name is Steven. Steve Rogers."

Amy appeared uncharacteristically worried.

"um Bernadette. Don't you think you're being unnecessarily harsh on Howard? After all, your ample endowments ought to be enough to offset any number of breasts artificially attached to a robot."

Bernadette whirled fiercely. "Why don't you play with your own little Life Model Decoy over there!"

When Amy fell silent, Penny continued. "Come on, Sheldon. Is there some reason you were thinking that the green one had a Clark Kent?"

Sheldon nervously glanced at Amy. Amy shrugged. He turned back to Penny. "As a matter of fact, there is. Keeping up with particle physics as I do, the known rage monster incidents seem to leave evidence that it was irradiated with gamma radiation. Now considering which scientists were making known break thoroughs with gamma radiation and of those who have been missing since the sightings began, I believe I have deduced that not only does he have a secret identity but who that secret identity is:

"Samuel Sterns."

Penny couldn't resist. "So it's not because you're hiding anything, are you Sheldon? I've seen you dance."

"Leave it be, bestie." Amy advised.

Leonard sprung a confused face. "Sheldon can't dance."

"Oh yes he can.", Penny assured. "He said he learned it at Contillion."

Leonard continued to object. "But that doesn't make any sense. We've seen him attempt to play basketball. If he could learn to dance in one summer, he certainly could have learned basketball in the course of his primary and secondary education."

Amy smoothed her skirt and got up from her place next to Sheldon on the couch. The lanky physicist rubbed his hands on his legs in an obvious show of nervousness.

"Well, remember that my incarceration in mere grammar school was refreshingly brief.", Sheldon supplied.

Leonard glared at him. "It was still years as opposed to a single summer, Sheldon."

Howard, grateful for something else to talk about besides his recent revelations, jumped right in. "Well, there's something else that never made sense. Remember when he pretended to throw his back out with that jar?"

Sheldon whirled. He noticed Amy had her arms folded while she stood next to her purse, hanging from the coat rack. "I wasn't pretending.", he attempted.

Howard talked over him. "That jar didn't weigh anything near what his paint gun does filled up, and he zips around us when we paint ball."

Raj agreed. "Yeah! How come you can't make a single basket but you can nail me in the head at fifty meters?"

Leonard actually began to lean away from Penny. "Raj and Howard are right. Even your knocking is perfectly timed, which requires hand-eye coordination as well as adept proprioception. At random intervals you seem to be as hopelessly unathletic as the rest of us asthmatics but whenever you need to you're magically fit as a fiddle. The only explanation is that you've been lying to us the whole time about your abilities."

"I told you not to press, Penny.", Amy declared.

Sheldon stretched to look at her hopefully. "We're going to have to kill them all, aren't we?"

Amy threw up her hands, one holding the gun she drew from the coffee can in her purse. "Now.", she said exasperatedly. "Hail Hydra."


	4. Chapter 4

1

It was a wonder how a woman that had obvious difficulty expressing the most base and animated of emotions, such as anger or happiness, could radiate much subtler ones, such as displeasure and contempt. Maybe this young Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler was one of those 'gifted' that hit the newspapers for about five seconds before that agency with the long winded name that was mostly rumored to exist game and snatched them up. Or so thought every one of the grad students and few post-docs that were crammed into her lab.

"Excuse me.", she repeated in that dead pan voice as she attempted to make her way through the chaos (in a laboratory, no less).

"Attention! Is a Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler present?", a man in the most generic suit he could find asked the room.

All hands pointed at her. She had not changed facial expressions. But annoyance crept into her aura.

"How are you gentleman going to take up my time?", the neuroscientist asked the two men. The one attempting to affect a forgettable genericness about him down to the ethnicity wore glasses. The one who looked like he had either dusted off, rented or been issued his suit wore the most vibrantly friendly grin she had seen on anyone.

"Hey there, sweetheart.", he began. "I'm John, and this is my friend Jasper. Jasper, say hello to the lady."

Jasper nodded. "Hello, Dr. Fowler. Is there some place private we could talk?"

"Just to get out of the noise?", John continued. "I mean, you deal with this _every single day_. We never have to."

Smile.

"No.", Dr. Fowler drew out. "There isn't."

Jasper glared at the still smiling John. Then he shrugged and pulled out his badge. "Clear the room! Everyone out by order of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division!"

The other scientists started to leave the room until one came up to Jasper. "Wait a minute. Who are you to order us to do anything."

Jasper reversed a ring on his hand and touched the woman on her arm. She fell to the floor convulsing with electric shocks. "Interfering with our agency can result in a twenty-five year prison sentence off the grid. You've just been convicted in a classified FISA court."

"Unless someone wants to help the little lady walk out of here.", John suggested. "I'm sure we could all just forget absolutely everything then. Like it all never happened and we won't ever have to come back here and present any single one of you to the FISA courts."

The room was cleared. John, as calm as 'how do you do', hopped on top of one of the counters and proceeded to unscrew the camera from the wall.

"That's a first bit of privacy this place has gotten in a long time. Isn't it, Amy?", John assured.

Jasper removed what looked like a smart phone from his jacket with the same motion that replaced his badge. But then he pulled up a holographic display of her head. "Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler, neuroscience specializing in addiction in primates."

"I thought it was you.", Amy stated. "Your agency already approached me for your Academies."

"And bounced you after the fact.", John oh so casually mentioned. "Something about 'ethical considerations'."

"You knew what my work was before approaching me.", Amy defended.

John nodded and shrugged. "The buereucrats didn't. They saw accolades and I.Q. and forgot all about the science."

"Exactly.", Amy agreed.

He continued. "They knew your thesis was in correlating addictive substances with the social controls inflicted upon the addicted. How could they not think that you would want to continue that research into your career. Maybe spice it up with coming up with some new substances. Maybe nothing more addictive but certainly more controlling."

"But look where that got you. Here. All piled on top of each other. Researching what now?"

Amy hung her head. "Defecation location choices in howler monkeys."

John frowned and hung his head along with her. Then he perked up. "Say, what if we could do something about that?"

"The division?", Amy asked.

"Not...exactly.", he corrected. "Me. Sitwell here. A few others. Well, more than a few others. I mean, the checks would be signed by the division. And given the long name, those become some mighty big checks. But we would all really know what the arrangement is. And all you would have to do is put that pretty little face nose deep back into the science you always wanted to pursue."

"How to control the human mind through addictive chemical exposure.", Amy revealed.

"Let's call it pharmacuetical cognitive therapy. That's more politically correct.", John winked at her.

Amy frowned. "You mean like what the drug companies have convinced parents across the country to do to their children?"

Jasper shrugged. "You thought you were the first we approached?"

"Freedom is a disease.", John continued. "Remember all the bullies. All the oppression of the intelligent. All the wasting of resources over excluding people. And for what? The general idiocy that kids get up to. You can help us end it."

Dr. Fowler smiled for the first time. "Yes. Yes we can.

"But, if you can arrange what you say you can arrange. Funding funneled through Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division and smy research reported to...?"

Sitwell raised his hand. "You would report directly to me in Communications. I'd then...carry it where it needs to go to be implemented."

Amy nodded. "Then you must be able to do pretty much anything."

John spread his arms. "We pretty much can."

She raised one of her eyebrows. "Then you can get me a boyfriend."

"No problem."

"That's tall. Clear blue or clear green eyes. I.Q. four standard deviations above normal. And personality vacant enough to be casually manipulated."

Jasper scrunched his face. "What? You want someone in the 170s that is emotionally pliable."

John threw an arm around Jasper. "No problem at all."

Dr. Fowler nodded again. "You can do that. I'll get you a spray that'll take the fight right out of anyone world wide. Couple it with another chemical that tells the brain it didn't even smell anything."

2

Two months later, Amy as on the phone with John.

"How's the private lab?", John asked.

Amy watched a chimpanzee hurriedly cross an electrified floor to get more of her drug. "Oh, it's a thing of beauty. But that's not what I'm calling about. I'd like to talk about Sheldon."

"What, don't you like him?", John objected.

"Like him? I'd love him if I believe romantic semantics added anything to relationships.", Amy assured. "Where ever did you get him?"

"Winter Soldier project. Something we picked up from the other side in the war.

"Look, sweetheart. I gotta tell you something. You're gonna have to cover for his super-strength."

Amy gasped. "He's got other powers besides the hearing and eidetic memory?"

John laughed. "I wouldn't exactly call his level a 'power'. It's just something to keep to just us."

"You're a great recruiter, Garret.", Amy complimented.

"heh, Don't I know it.", John agreed. "Ask my man, Tripp. I talked him out of a free ride at Stanford to become the nest O.J. Simpson to come join Operations. But ask in a round about way. He's not exactly in the know."

"I will.", Amy obeyed. "And thanks again. Hail Hydra!"


End file.
